


A Just Reward

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22262995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: Though a horse might be more fitting, Khal Drogo has a different idea to reward Ser Jorah Mormont for saving the life of his khaleesi.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen, Khal Drogo/Daenerys Targaryen, Khal Drogo/Jorah Mormont, Khal Drogo/Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Holly Poly 2019





	A Just Reward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neosaiyanangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neosaiyanangel/gifts).



Though the desert heat had cooled with the onset of night, it had done nothing to quiet the hot nerves dancing through the khaleesi’s stomach. Just that morning a wine merchant had plotted her murder. In hindsight, she could see the telling behaviors the wretched man had shown, but had it not been for Ser Jorah she would have been enough of a trusting fool to take the cup he readily offered. Her heart still raced at the thought of how close she’d come to her own demise.

What was more, she was unsure of what reward her husband had offered the Westerosi knight for his valiant rescue. Her grasp of the Dothraki language, while much improved, was still not completely fluent, and Khal Drogo had spoken in a low rumble when he made his offer. It sounded to her as though he had offered for Jorah to ride with him, but that couldn’t be right. They rode together often enough as the khalasar traveled. She’d thought to ask her attendants for the proper translation of the words, but something held her back. Ser Jorah had seemed shocked at the offer, and his face had quickly colored to a deep shade of red. Yet, he had agreed readily enough.

The tent flap moved, and Daenerys found herself staring down the very man who occupied her thoughts. Her wore only his trousers, shirt, and boots— a noticeable difference from the riding leathers she’d grown accustomed to seeing. They stared at one another in silence for several long moments. He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the gesture, but still he did not speak. 

Just as Daenerys was gathering the courage to ask what he was doing the tent flap opened and Drogo strode in. He glanced between them with an expression she’d learned to interpret as ‘wry amusement’ and chuckled slightly. Drogo began to strip off his clothing, completely unbothered by the presence of the knight, shaking his head as he moved. He was muttering something to himself, but all she was able to catch were the words for ‘foreigners’ and what she thought might be ‘prude.’ Jorah watched the Khal undress with a look of nervous trepidation, but he made no move to leave.

Finally, once he was completely bare, Drogo stepped up to the side of the bed of furs where she sat and reached out a hand. “Come, moon of my life,” he rumbled when she placed her hand in his much larger one. He hauled her to her feet in one smooth motion and arranged them until he stood behind her, both of them facing the man that had saved her life. Jorah looked even more nervous than before, refusing to meet her eyes. “We owe the Westerosi for your life,” Drogo reminded her, leaning close to nuzzle against the side of her face. His hands drifted over her, and Daenerys felt her face flush as her body responded in spite of their audience. “Tonight we will both show him how grateful we are.”

It took a moment for his meaning to take hold, distracted as she was by the press of his lips against her thrhough the desert heat had cooled with the onset of night, it had done nothing to quiet the hot nerves dancing through the khaleesi’s stomach. Just that morning a wine merchant had plotted her murder. In hindsight, she could see the telling behaviors the wretched man had shown, but had it not been for Ser Jorah she would have been enough of a trusting fool to take the cup he readily offered. Her heart still raced at the thought of how close she’d come to her own demise.

What was more, she was unsure of what reward her husband had offered the Westerosi knight for his valiant rescue. Her grasp of the Dothraki language, while much improved, was still not completely fluent, and Khal Drogo had spoken in a low rumble when he made his offer. It sounded to her as though he had offered for Jorah to ride with him, but that couldn’t be right. They rode together often enough as the khalasar traveled. She’d thought to ask her attendants for the proper translation of the words, but something held her back. Ser Jorah had seemed shocked at the offer, and his face had quickly colored to a deep shade of red. Yet, he had agreed readily enough.

The tent flap moved, and Daenerys found herself staring down the very man who occupied her thoughts. Her wore only his trousers, shirt, and boots— a noticeable difference from the riding leathers she’d grown accustomed to seeing. They stared at one another in silence for several long moments. He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the gesture, but still he did not speak. 

Just as Daenerys was gathering the courage to ask what he was doing the tent flap opened and Drogo strode in. He glanced between them with an expression she’d learned to interpret as ‘wry amusement’ and chuckled slightly. Drogo began to strip off his clothing, completely unbothered by the presence of the knight, shaking his head as he moved. He was muttering something to himself, but all she was able to catch were the words for ‘foreigners’ and what she thought might be ‘prude.’ Jorah watched the Khal undress with a look of nervous trepidation, but he made no move to leave.

Finally, once he was completely bare, Drogo stepped up to the side of the bed of furs where she sat and reached out a hand. “Come, moon of my life,” he rumbled when she placed her hand in his much larger one. He hauled her to her feet in one smooth motion and arranged them until he stood behind her, both of them facing the man that had saved her life. Jorah looked even more nervous than before, refusing to meet her eyes. “We owe the Westerosi for your life,” Drogo reminded her, leaning close to nuzzle against the side of her face. His hands drifted over her, and Daenerys felt her face flush as her body responded in spite of their audience. “Tonight we will both show him how grateful we are.”

It took a moment for his meaning to take hold, distracted as she was by the press of his lips against her throat.


End file.
